"Mother?" Greyylene voiced out loud as the hood fell from the woman's face in the center of the action. With that one word the chaos that had broken the low din in the tired pub took on a new fever. Those of the Pirate crew joined their Captain in trying to assist the couple in the middle of the attention.
The pair in the middle stood back to back their swords and short blades drawn and swinging. They may have been terrible villains but in this town they were brothers in arms against the governing powers. Any ruffian was “honor bound” to cause as much mayhem as possible especially where another outlaw was concerned. That was the honor code of the streets.
Chapter 59
Greyylene and her crew began to swing and move along the perimeter at a pace that would ensure minimal injury to themselves while taking out as many guards as possible.
In one glance the entire room became a silent rush of air followed by a hollow empty vacuum. The couple at the center of the fray was her parents, and they were quickly being over taken by the sheer numbers of guards hunting them. Before she realized what she was doing, the Elf Pirate let out a war scream that automatically sent her crew into blood frenzy. They moved forward slashing and clawing through the mass of bodies towards the middle. Each stroke of a blade was answered with a singing arrow flashing through the air.
A low groan behind her took the focus off the guard in front of her enough for him to knock her bow out of her hands and send it skittering across the rough wood floor. The hard blow to her jaw knocked her back and off her feet landing next to a body almost void of life.
Falling hard next to her was a female body. When she looked to the eyes staring empty back at her the full agony of the past few years came screaming back at her. The room turned into a vortex of sound and color as bodies continued to fall. All she could do was hold her mother's head in her arms and weep bitter tears. Next to her lay the body of her father, his blank eyes staring at her bore into her memory.
She barely had time to close their eyes before she was hauled up by the back of her shirt and thrown into a line of other outlaws. Her crew spread throughout the line stood and watched as the guards gloated over their skirmish victory.
The Guard Captain, a tall husky man with long dark hair and a ravenous smile full of arrogance, strode down the line acting as if he had just conquered a trained army rather than tired rough necks, thugs and sailors. His grand speech must have been practiced for quite a time in the mirror, for his step would halt for a dramatic pause between "important comments" before continuing. Greyy waited for him to turn his back before giving a signal to her men. Silent and with little movement they carried out her understood order.
As the guards were moving to exit their Commander gave a flip of his hand and the order to “take care of the bodies, he only wanted their heads” Greyy flew into a fury. The spinning whirlwind of kicks and the slicing of bladed bow tips took the guards so off balance several others were felled before the arrogant captain could turn around. Coming to a standstill her bow fully drawn and armed she released her ire with all the force of rushing water pinning the Guard Captain to the door frame.
At her movements the rest of the ruffians took new vigor and expelled the remaining Guards from the tavern with such great force that they had no time to regain composure or retaliate. Greyylene had her final say as she spit in the face of the Guard Captain adding a low whispered curse into his ear. The curse she learned was used by the Dark Elf Clans.
Her final word was spoken as clouds began to form threatening to open releasing torrents of nature’s fury. A low fog began to roll through town as if the streets were in a cauldron of boiling water. The focus of the storm seemed to settle over the Pirate's sloop of war bobbing innocently in the harbor.
From under the hood of his cloak the lone dark figure, who had remained still through the entire scene, smiled a slow wicked smile. In his hand was a dark amulet etched with an intricate design used by his Dark Elf House in which the power to summon a spoken curse was enacted. Even the low whisper from the Pirate Captain had set into motion events that would alter the course of her and her crew. There was only one way to break the curse she had invited, until that time their curse would also be their protection. The Dark Elf had earned his reward and gained his next game in one foul moment of rage.
Chapter 60
Greyy and those of her crew present turned to gather the bodies of her parents covering them with cloaks taken from the remaining guards. Others of the cutthroats blocked the path of the “Peace Keepers” in order to allow the bodies to pass untouched. They were oblivious to all but their task of delivering the bodies of her parents safely to her ship.
As soon as the last crewman was aboard they set sail even though the tides were against them and the night was an inky black.
Burials at sea were no small matter and most sailors, whether Pirate, Tradesman or Navy understood the gravity of losing crew at sea. It was a somber occasion some marked by fanfare and fancy dress, others took the moment to pause and recognize the passing. For the parents of Captain Greyylene, however, all was quiet. The sea was calm, the birds circled in silence and the sky knelt in quiet hues of subtle gray as the waves stood ready to welcome their charges.
The bodies were prepared by wrapping them tightly in sacks weighted with cannon balls so no Navy dog would be able to dredge their bodies for the bounty. Those who volunteered to carry the bodies to the rails were honored with solemn silence as the rest of the crew lined the deck allowing them to pass. None of the crew knew the notorious felons but the fact alone that they belonged to their Captain was sufficient to bestow respect in their final voyage to the next life.
Captain Greyy stood by the rails watching as the bodies of her parents moved along the deck. The heartbreak she felt was mirrored by her crew. They were deeply moved, not only by the brutal ambush that brought them to this occasion but also by the profound sorrow of losing one’s parents twice in one lifetime. As the bodies were plunged into the depths of the sea and drifted to the bottom and out of sight Greyy began to remember the soft summer days and happy meals shared with her whole family.
Greyy was so intent on leaving the horror behind her that she paid little attention to the seas or the surroundings. Several days later it was realized all that had taken place and the consequences of her actions. The curse she had sworn on the head of the Guard Captain had gripped her, the ship and her crew in the same icy clutch.
Thick black letters burned into the hull of the ship covering its former name. She now was the Captain of the damned ship “Vharcan”; the term for “Revenge” used by the Dark Elves whose incantation she had summoned in the heated rage.
A deep silver gray finger spread like an inky dye across the bow casting a dark aura around the ship and all its crew. The once lean sloop of war with its bright blue paint and crisp white sails was altered to match the curse brought on by its Captain. The figurehead that had been a mermaid with pleasing features and alluring eyes turned to a skeletal abomination, and the sturdy timbers across the deck resembled those often dredged from shipwrecks. Nothing from the mischievous past remained; all that remained was sinister and dark.
Her soft nod dismissed the crew back to their stations as she remained at the rails lost in thought and watching the sun set. An overwhelming sorrow flooded through her yet did not allow for tears. The last glimmer of light vanished beneath the horizon as she turned to join the men for the evening meal. Only then was she able to fully understand all the events that had led her to this point in her life. A new resolve settled over her to become the scourge of the Emperor’s Guard.
Chapter 61
The evil that spread like frost in winter across the Pirate vessel "Vharcan" had brought more attention to the Crimson Dagger Pirate clan than what Kerrs was willing to accept. The new name was beneficial for raising terror, but had also brought a high priced bounty on any Pirate associated with the damned crew. The fear and loathing brought about by th
e colors that flew added to the megalomania of the Clan Captain Kerrs Redgrave, but the added difficulties in common tasks and simple movements had begun to annoy.
Rather than continue with the constant battles he assigned “Vharcan” the responsibility of expanding the Pirate boarders. Pillage and plunder any new land or vessel that fell into their path in the name of Crimson Dagger Pirates. He armed them with blank map scrolls and any tool they felt would assist in taking them far away from their small island hide away. In this manner he kept the intrigue of the Pirates, avoided the Curse and earned new lands all without having to be bothered with it himself.
Chapter 62
At the edge of town Sir Gilead stood watching the weather holding his amulet in both hands and weeping unashamed at the horror that had transpired. He knew as soon as the moon reappeared he was far too late. He had failed to reach the couple in time and now the die of their actions was cast into the waters of destiny. All that was left for his mission was to help with the aftermath. He brought the hood of his cloak up far over his head to hide his face and obscure the brown monk’s robe he wore as he strode down the center of the street straight for the tavern.
Sitting on a low bench just outside the door of the tavern Sir Gil waited until the ruckus inside quieted. There were sounds of blades and screams from those who were injured; he knew that his services would be required soon enough. When the door opened he stood knowing what would exit. He held the amulet closely so as not to betray his position or allow the Captain to know he was there.
He waited for the crew and the bodies to disappear into the fog before entering the pub. The Guard Captain was still pinned to the wall and many of his soldiers were picking themselves off the floor and tending to other wounded. With a light flourish of his cloak the Monk made himself useful by first releasing Bernard Washburn from the wall. Breaking off the arrow that impaled, Gil was able to pull the wounded leader from his hanger. Once on the ground the healing Monk took out a small pouch of herbs and grabbed a bottle of strong ale that had managed to survive the attack. Mixing a handful of herbs with the alcohol he made a mushy paste that he applied to a clean bandage to dress the wounds of the Guard Captain.
After treating Captain Washburn’s wounds and tending to several others Sir Gilead rose to inspect the rest of the small room for others who were injured.
He had been aware that the amulet around his neck had been buzzing with an energy he could not place. He slowly turned from the wounded soldier and watched the inky black swirl in the smooth stone as it began to tint red as an angry fire. The energetic buzz of a sinister presence continued to grow as a shadow emerged from a dark corner.
As if staring in a mirror the two Mystics stood in the center of the room. Face to face Sir Gil met the Dark Elf. Both men were the same height and apparent age; neither was old or young but ageless. They wore similar garb of robe and cloak with a tie belt which hung a pouch for herbs. Soft lines in the Monk's face were harsh and chiseled on the Elf; the long dark hair of the Monk mirrored the white hair of the Dark Elf. Their eyes burned with fire of passion one for peace and love, the other for destruction and hate. The milky white skin of Sir Gilead was swallowed in the ash black skin of the stranger before him.
The amulets they wore mirrored their owner’s hearts as well, both could tell the heart of a person by the color of the stone and at this moment they sought each other proving the other’s true nature and ultimate mission. The amulet that belonged to the Elf swirled a light lavender and blue. Sir Gilead's amulet continued to buzz and swirl with the black ink in the presence of unashamed evil.
With a scowl and sinister laugh the Dark Elf turned on his heel with a grand flourish of his cape and disappeared into the night shadows. There was no proof but Sir Gilead was certain that the destruction of the night had been assisted by the Evil he had just met. The chill that took the Monk and shook him to his core set his resolve more firmly not to be caught behind a moment, especially where the Elf Captain was concerned, she needed him to be ever vigilant. It was in this instance he realized the true difference between the Highland Tree Elf's gentle grace and soft heart and the Dark Elf's sinister evil.
Chapter 63
After being released from the wall the Guard Captain was taken to the small Army Outpost to be treated for his wounds. Regardless of the fact that he and his “elite squad” barely survived the encounter Captain Bernard Washburn sent out a report to the Emperor of what happened, padding it slightly with facts that made them look more favorable. Only a few of his original team was still alive to counter his report and none of them were eager to reveal what really happened.
The irritation he had for the ruffians enflamed the fact his shoulder was not healing properly and the Captain was stuck in a makeshift cot for days longer than he desired unable to move and burning with a high fever. The wound oozed and throbbed from both sides of his body and the poorly trained staff of healers and so called doctors could do little more than watch him suffer. His ire was further stirred when he thought of the insult of such a wound to one of his station and upbringing, he was of noble blood and should be able to heal better than the average riff raff.
After several days the Officer was relieved to see the Monk who had traveled with him standing over his cot. Even the concerned look on his face gave him comfort that something would be done. His fear of dying by an arrow from some no good hooligan could be relieved slightly.
Sir Gilead stood over the small cot where Captain Washburn lay in obvious pain and hot with fever. His bedding was soaked from sweat and his clothes were still soiled with dried blood and the ooze from the open wounds on his shoulders. The Monk was more than irate when he addressed the first attendant that approached the bed.
“I Want This Man Given New Bedding AND Fresh Clothes, Right NOW!” the Monk barked causing the poor nurse to jump into action.
As soon as the Captain was settled and given a good washing his wounds were examined and redressed, but infection had already settled deep into the shoulder. Taking out a fresh bandage and more herbs along with fragrant oil the Monk made a new dressing for the wounds and fitted them gently. Part of the herb mixture was one that dulled pain and aided in sleep, causing the Captain to drift into a heavy slumber.
When the Captain was asleep Sir Gilead asked for a curtain to be drawn across his bed for privacy. Once alone the Monk removed the pendant from around his neck and placed the smooth stone gently over the hole made by the angry arrow. He laid his hand on Washburn and prayed softly through the night. By the time the nurse came to check on the patient Sir Gil was gone and Captain Washburn was sleeping comfortably snoring low and steady. The fever had broken and the wounds were clear.
While lying in his cot waiting to be cleared for active service, or at least to travel, Bernard thought back on his life and of the events that brought him to this place. Captain Washburn came from a long line of military men, he and his younger brother graduated from the Emperor’s Training Academy with high honors. Their father was a Brigadier General serving with the Emperor’s personal Guard, not to mention part of the nobility in the Empirical City. Both the brothers had been expected to achieve high ranks early in their respective branches of the military. As a commissioned officer in the army there was a level of expectation Bernard was meant to maintain. This ridiculous arrow had tainted his high standard for his own reputation.
With a heavy sigh he recalled the night in the tavern where his world was turned on its ear. He was embarrassed by a bunch of unruly cutthroats, and the one who brought him the most disgrace was some pirate female! His ire had been stirred to a glowing ember when she had stolen his reward by taking the bodies of the outlaws out of the tavern. Now that vermin would have to pay.
Chapter 64
The report he sent also had another poster stating a high price for information, or the head of the Pirate Legend Greyylene. He had bargained that the reward money would buy out any loyalty that may be felt in the ranks of her crew
or those of the other unsavory lot. The Damned Ship “Vharcan” would soon be his to send to the bottom of the ocean. He gave little thought to the fact that the Pirates were more in the jurisdiction of the Navy and not the Army Guards.
Riders sped through towns and villages replacing one poster for another. Most were shot to tree trunks with arrows as the courier rode without breaking stride. Many of the citizens were accustomed to seeing thick piles of wanted posters plastered to walls and other highly visible locations. Some of the townspeople bothered to look at them fearing at some point it would be their own face and name attached to a piece of parchment.
The hastily drawn image of Greyylene portraying her in the worst possible light to invoke fear and loathing was tacked far and wide across the lands. The reward was prominently displayed to ensure none would overlook the generosity bestowed on those who would assist.
Those citizens who saw the notices were generally unwilling to assist knowing the crew belonged to the most vicious pirate clan that sailed the seas. Mercenaries were more protective than Captain Washburn had anticipated making his plea for justice fall flat to the ground unanswered.
Stories from those who had witnessed the attack had spread faster than the riders. By the time the reports had reached the Capital City most of the posters were already removed, and the legends of the pirates were floating around the populace like chum in shark infested water. The people were hungry for gossip and the new threat to the Crown was the perfect story lines to evoke romance into illegal activity.
Chapter 65
For the Emperor’s Military it was a great boost. The call to arms that rang out among the wealthy was answered by the finest pampered playboys in the land. Families with fancy pedigrees sent their sons to enlist in the branch of service most suited for their station in society. Uniforms played a large role in choosing the proper destination for those seeking glory and notoriety.
The two branches of the Military were Army and Navy. Those families that were most familiar with sea faring and trade would join the Navy priding themselves with the snappy sapphire and emerald colors. The families that held to inland trade joined the Army with the crimson and purple uniforms.
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